Bridges

When I see the lake surrounded by so much greens as I cross Rue du Bemel, I can no longer believe I am in Brussels; the one I am used to. The smell of fresh grass, pure lake and cosy, lovely neighbourhood rather reminds of a village than a city of eurocrates (European Commission Beaulieu buildings are just across the Woluwe Park). Here, I also find Academie des Arts de Woluwe-Saint-Pierre where local youngsters and adults come for doing arts.

There is an exhibition organized on 21st of June; just before the students of the Academy leave for summer vacation. Their sculptures and paintings and videos are displayed in two floors. Among them, my colleague’s sculpture is there in the middle of one of the rooms. There are lots of impulses that strike my mind: clay bodies swimming in the water, Iberia light tickets to Barcelona, heart trees, shade of a woman, pregnant belly, a man stuffed his mouth with a full-size green apple, strings and wires, the music of loneliness, the music that runs past you as on tiptoes, but reaches your deep soul strikingly, French and French. Rooms get filled with people, probably parents and relatives of the students whose work has been exhibited. In the corners of the rooms there are tables with wine, juice, cheese and chips and other snacks. Some of the people spend most of the time there.

I talk to my colleague about his other sculpture which is not exhibited here, but that I have seen on photos. It’s a metal hand that is confronted to a wooden hand. They are facing each other and forming a shape o an egg. I ask him for a deeper meaning of this idea. He tells me, it’s a bridge.

At night, I have a very vivid dream: I am in Southern China, a small town. I am introduced to the local school and I am surprised to see loads of potatoes that they serve there. It rings to my mind that Chinese don’t eat that much potatoes. The primary food should be rice. But I don’t pay attention. I rather notice that the entire city is swarmed with people and I am sure, there must be an occasion for that. I ask for an explanation, and someone replies: we are celebrating the new bridge. Then, I look on my left and I see a bridge over the river that has been built to connect two shores of the city. It’s full of people and indeed, they are celebrating the new bridge.

 

Strasbourgh through Seven Seats

This story was originally published in "Internal Voices".


The weather should be better than in Brussels. Hopefully. My colleague compares the weather in both European Union official cities as I talk to him about European Commission trainees’ two-day trip to Strasbourg organised by the Politics and International Relations subcommittee.

Around 50 of us board the bus on the early, bright morning of May 19th from Brussels to Strasbourg. During the journey, I overhear some trainees discussing the previous night’s Eurovision song contest, some others are already planning what to do when in Strasbourg. There are some who just take a nap or read a book and perhaps there are others like me who naïvely hope these are going to be two warm days in Strasbourg. 

No such luck! As we arrive at Strasbourg Gare Centrale, we are immediately embraced by rain or perhaps we just brought it with us from Brussels to ensure we have it for the next two days. Thus, the Alsatian city close to the border with Germany doesn’t gift us with long walks admiring its gorgeous architecture. Instead, we move “from seat to seat” as my South African friend precisely describes, trying to avoid unwelcome showers over our shoulders.

Read the full story here.

 

My story in "A Sea of Words 2012"

Picture taken from IEMed.

My story "Blue Eyes' Story" (originally "Zilo acu stāsts") has been included in IEMed publication "A Sea of Words 2012" 5th edition.

You can find the publication with 14 short stories from different Mediterranean countries and download your copy here. The topic of the publication is "Solidarity between generations".